Posts Tagged ‘contest’

bummed, but taking it in stride

The results are out for the GotYA blog contest. I am not among the winners. Le sigh.

However, the winning entry, courtesy of Margo, ROCKED:

Monday March 10th, 4:30 pm

I just didn’t anticipate that it would be this difficult. I thought that Cooper would do a Kool-Aid man through the wall to come get me when he heard the mere suggestion of sex. Apparently my sex appeal is on the fritz.

I could talk to him about it.

Monday March 10th, 4:32 pm

Okay, clearly I’m going senile in my old age. What am I thinking? I can’t talk to Cooper; he might say something unpleasant. What I need to do is think rationally. Problem solving. Research.

Off to buy Cosmo!

Monday March 10th, 6:00 pm

I’ve been researching for basically hours. My friend Molly has a subscription, so I took a ton of her old copies and looked through them.

According to Cosmo, so far I have to be… elegant, down-to-earth, funny, caring, comfortable, aloof, available, coy, honest, confident, constant, serious, fickle and loyal.

So basically Gandhi in a wig.

You know, before I read the Cosmos, I was feeling pretty optimistic. Now I’m convinced that only Mary Poppins in Megan Fox’s body could achieve the enlightened feat of seducing a man. Still, I strive on tirelessly.

Monday March 10th, 6:05 pm



i can haz contests!

Busy, busy, busy: that’s me. As of 5pm yesterday, my second contest entry is now in the hands of the USPS.

I spent most of yesterday morning revamping Tucker. AGAIN. I know, I know. But it’s better this time. Honest to dog. Check it out. Not bad for a morning’s rewrite, am I right? I actually meant to have dealt with it long before this but I totally slipped on a puddle of ennui and when I finally regained my feet, I realized the deadline for the Heart & Scroll Magic Moments Contest was a little over 24 hours away.


Feels good to have accomplished just that small thing (actually, it was quite a bit more than small. Note to self: next time, don’t wait until the last friggin’ minute). Of course it would feel best to win, but I’m not holding my breath. Most of my contest frenzy this past week comes more from taking steps that clearly show to myself (and possibly the IRS next tax season) that my writing is focused on career rather than hobby. If any of this harvesting yields actual fruit, shiny.

Ok. Off to fold laundry. Then I get to reward my hard work with… more hard work. Writing. Note to self: career, career, career…

ps – I ended up posting a second entry on the GotYA contest (the rules didn’t specifically say one entry per person – I double checked). I mentioned frenzy, right? It’s an excerpt from Tucker, one of my favorite bits.

“You gonna ask her out or what?”

Startled Josh blinked at Emma. “Sorry?”

She rolled her eyes and pointed her fork at him. “You haven’t taken your eyes off my mom for more than a few minutes since you got here. So either you like her or you’re stalking her.” She frowned. “Stalking’s not cool. She’s got enough to worry about.”

“Does she now,” he murmured. He cleared his throat. “So let me get this straight: you’re asking my intentions toward your mother?”

She chewed thoughtfully. “Yeah, I like that. What are your intentions toward my mother? You gonna ask her out or what?”

He laughed and shook his head. “Afraid not; I go back to Los Angeles on Monday.”


Josh stopped laughing. “What do you mean ‘so’? Your mom doesn’t strike me as the one night stand type. And am I really having this conversation with a mathematically challenged eighth grader?”

“Hmpf,” she said. “Technically, if you’re leaving Monday it would be a two night stand, Mr. Wizard. Looks like you’ve wasted all this time checking out her ass and not paying attention. Typical.” She turned back to the magazine she’d been engrossed in, dismissing him. “Have a nice flight.”


I’m back! Miss me? Admit it, you know you did. Ok, be that way. ((very mature raspberry))


So here I am today, blogging from the EZ Lube on my sparkly new iPad. Ain’t technology grand? I wasn’t actually going to give into the sparkle of the iPad but I came into some extra cash and had just finished an amazing book on my iPhone that I wanted to read bigger, so…


What book inspired my spendy spree, pray tell? Columbine by Dave Cullen. I picked it up on the recommendation of Janet Reid and could not put it down. Absolutely riveting. Anyway once I finished it, I went right back to the beginning and started over. The book, much like the event itself, is too much to absorb in one pass. I don’t know that I’ll ever truly comprehend it.


I entered my very first ever contest – yay! Over on GotYA they were offering a 30 page critique by an agent – just post up to 200 words of your ms that best illustrates your “voice”. Easy peasy. So I put up 207 words from Roxy. After I posted I found a glaring typo and a lot of the other entries are incredibly strong, so my chances are slim. But hey it’s a first step.

“Hold the phone!” you cry. “Roxy? WTH?” Yeah. I started another one. It’s disgusting, I know. Roxy is my attempt at YA, kind of Nancy Drew with a hint of Veronica Mars – without all of the attendant rape and incest. Or maybe Nancy Drew with a hint of Buffy – without all of the attendant monsters and supernatural. Not exactly original, but I’m having fun with it.

So what about Tucker? Yeah. What about Tucker, anyway. I’ve made no progress since last reported here. Ugh. But, there is a contest I have my eye on and I think the first scene will do very nicely for it. All I have to do is trim it from 11 1/2 pages to 10. Easy peasy…? Not exactly… see I’ve decided to swap the inciting events around. AGAIN.

Maybe there is some kind of counseling or pharmaceutical aid I can partake of?

Anyhoo. That’s me for now.


ps – Want to see what I posted for the contest? Of course you do.

Roxy turned just in time to reach out and catch the keys sailing through the hot morning air at her head. She grinned and scrambled into the Jeep behind the wheel. Eddie hopped in beside her as Brenda rushed to the door.

“Gun it, kid.”

Obediently Roxy turned the key in the ignition and the Jeep roared to life. She found first gear – with only minimal grinding – and eased out onto the street.

Eddie stretched like a cat. “You’re getting better at that, kiddo.” A tinny rendition of “Rehab” exploded from his phone, which he ignored.

Roxy, eyes diligently on the road, asked, “You aren’t going to pick that up?”

“Nah. I’ve heard enough lectures from your mom to last three marriages. Besides, what’s the point of having a driver’s permit if you’re never permitted to drive?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s her point.”

Brenda was an ER nurse who’d seen one too many examples of the hazards of teenage drivers. As far as she was concerned, Roxy was S.O.L. until she turned eighteen.

She’d nearly stroked out when Eddie’d picked up Roxy to go surfing and brought her home with a freshly minted learner’s.

Father and daughter found themselves grounded for two weeks.